


A Most Dangerous Game

by kelex



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 21:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20442734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: A game goes a little bit sideways, but in the best way possible.





	A Most Dangerous Game

**Author's Note:**

> For the Truth or Dare square, Ineffable Husbands Bingo. Vests are undershirts, on yon side of the pond, and I’m sorry I didn’t catch that mistake in other fics. Can’t promise I won’t make it again, either!

"It's a game, angel, a human game that they play when they're drinking. You have to choose Truth or Dare, and then I ask you a question. if you choose truth, you have to answer truthfully. and if you dare, then you have to do whatever I say. If you chicken out then there's a consequence, like I burn a book or something. " Crowley downed his drink.

"Well, just a moment here. Why do you get to burn my books?"   
  
"It's only if you don't play by the rules. Besides, you can miracle it back after the game. Or you can make me do it if I'm sober."

"So what do I do if you chicken out?" Aziraphale gazed steadily over the rim of his cup.

"Oh, yeah, well. I won't default, but if I do..." Air hissed between his teeth. "You can pluck one of my plants," Crowley finally offered.

"This is all too confusing. What say you, if we forfeit, we must each give up one item of clothing?" Aziraphale suggested. "I used to be quite a dab hand at poker.”

“Yeah, see, that only works if we're wearing the same amount of clothes,” Crowley pointed out. “Not your fifteen layers against my five entire articles.” 

“Come now, it's not that drastic,” Aziraphale chided. 

“Jacket, shirt, trousers, shoes, socks,” Crowley counted off. “Six, if you count the glasses.” He tossed said sunglasses on the table in demonstration. “You, though. Jacket, waistcoat, shirt, undershirt, trousers, pants, socks, shoes, and that ridiculous bow tie. So that's what, nine?” 

“Of course you aren't wearing underwear,” Aziraphale groused. “All right, fine. You can count the glasses and the silver necktie... thing, that will be seven and I won't count my bow tie, which is eight. Is that close enough for you?”

Crowley leaned forward. “Flip you for the first question.” 

Aziraphale produced a shilling that hadn't been in circulation for a hundred years and flipped it expertly. “Call it.” 

“Tails,” Crowley answered, watching the silver disc spin. 

Aziraphale caught in on his wrist and held it out. “Heads! Wonderful, I go first.” The shilling disappeared and Aziraphale leaned back in his chair. “Truth or Dare?” 

“Truth,” came Crowley's answer. 

“Do you actually know how to drive, or do you just imagine yourself behind the wheel of the car and driving it?” Because he had been wondering about that ever since the Bentley had turned into a flaming puddle. 

In answer, Crowley lifted his hip and extracted a snakeskin wallet from his pocket. Opening the flap, he tossed it to the angel. “Real license there. Took the class and everything.” Of course it'd been a great many years since the class, but that wasn't germane to the question. “So yeah, I really know how to drive.” 

Aziraphale tossed the wallet back. “I'm rather surprised. I didn’t think you knew how to drive at all.”

Crowley snorted. “You disparaging my skills behind the wheel, angel? Show you, next time we drive.”

“Remind me not to get into the car with you.” He settled back into his seat in anticipation.

After throwing back his drink, Crowley took a deep breath. “Right, my turn. Truth or Dare.”

“Truth,” came the somewhat unsurprising reply. 

“What is the one temptation you did for me that you liked the best?” The demon busied himself pouring another glass as he waited for the answer.

“Goodness.” Aziraphale tilted his head, considering. “It’s been a great while ago, but it had to be in 1517. You were supposed to tempt some German gent to break away from the church, and I tempted him to do just that. Proudest day of my long existence when he walked up to that church door in Wittenberg and nailed his list of grievances to the door.”

Crowley actually spat out his mouthful of wine. “ _ That was you? _ ” he demanded, wheezing. Yes, he’d been tempted all right,  _ tempted to reform the whole goddamn Church system. _ “You were supposed to tempt him out of the church entirely, not begin the Reformation!”

“Your fault for not being specific enough,” Aziraphale pointed out. “All you told me was the man’s name--Martin Luther--and to tempt him into breaking with the Church. And he did exactly that, by publicly listing the abuses of power that the Church was guilty of and beginning a reformation movement.” Smug? Him? Never.

“That’s all they told me at the time,” Crowley admitted. “Have a feeling that one didn’t get a commendation. Not like the  _ Hamlet  _ thing. I got a note from below telling me what a good job I’d done making that play a success, retroactively, that is. It’s tormented years and years of students around the world, making them learn those bloody awful soliloquies.”

“I do think you might have overdone the miracle a bit on that one, dear,” Aziraphale agreed. “You were just supposed to make it popular, not  _ the _ most popular ever.”

“Yeah, well.” Crowley shrugged as two high spots of red glowed on his cheekbones.

Aziraphale caught the flushing. “Crowley?” The flush deepened. “Are you… do you mean to tell me that you deliberately did that?”

“Well,  _ you _ wanted it to be a success,” Crowley pointed out. “That look you gave me, felt like strangling a litter of puppies saying no to that face. So maybe I was a little heavy-handed with it.” 

“You old serpent you.” Aziraphale gave his demon a fond glance. “My turn again? Truth or Dare?”

“Oh, truth. I’m still too sober yet for a dare.” 

Aziraphale took the question from before and turned it around. “What was your favorite miracle from the Arrangement?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Crowley wanted to kick his boots off, but given that would be a forfeit, he scowled and propped them up on the arm of the couch. “17-something. Wasn’t even a big one, you were supposed to do a couple of minor heals, and I was meant to do a big war-starting thing. Turns out, the war was already brewing and I didn’t need to do anything, so I took care of your minor healings. One of them was a man who had leprosy, and I cleaned him up and sent him on his way. But the other, it was a kid. A little girl, she wasn’t any more than eight or nine. Her parents had it rough, no money to speak of at the time. Mary, her name was. Don’t know why she was important, but she was. I healed her right quick, and she actually thanked me. Called me a doctor and said thank you doctor, I feel much better now.” Crowley scratched his nose, dragging his arm across it. “M’favorite miracle right there.”

“That Mary was Mary Wollstonecraft, and her daughter would grow up to write the first real horror novel,  _ Frankenstein,  _ and marry one of the period’s most known poets, Percy Shelley,” Aziraphale prompted. “You did the world a great service, Crowley.”

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” Crowley’s feet thudded down as he reached for the bottle. “Me again, yeah? Truth or Dare?” He sloshed a little more wine into the glass and sat back. 

“Mmm, truth, please.”

“Who was your most famous lover? And don’t give me that line of  _ angels are pure of heart and chaste of body,  _ because I know otherwise.” Crowley pointed at him.

Aziraphale scowled. “I refuse to answer that question.” So saying, he took off his jacket and tossed it onto the table. “There. Have your forfeit.”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale peeled out of the jacket and tossed it down. He rather wanted to tell the angel to roll up his sleeves, because there was something about Aziraphale’s bare forearms that made Crowley want to bite them. But he refrained. “Right, okay, your turn.”

“Truth or Dare, demon?”

“Truth!”

“And the question is the same to you. Who is your most famous peccadillo?”

“Huh.” Crowley considered that. “You know, my idea of famous and your idea of famous are probably two entirely different things.”

“Is that going to change your answer?” Aziraphale asked curiously.

“No, probably not.”

“Then why does it matter?”

“Because I don’t think you know who Freddie Mercury is.”

“So  _ that’s _ why everything in that blasted car turns into Queen CDs!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I should have known!”

“You’re surprised?” Crowley’s thumbs hooked back at himself. “I’m the devil that Beelzebub put aside for him.”

“You tempted that man?”

“Not really, I just liked his music. He was a great man, little bad at decision-making. By the time I knew he was really sick, there wasn’t anything I could do without outing myself to Hell as a miracle-worker. Same to you, I couldn’t call you up and ask for a miracle for an ex, not without outing you as an angel. The kind of sick he was--”

“I remember,” Aziraphale said, a little sadly. “It was not a pleasant time in Soho at all.” He looked down at his hands. “So many people that used to come to the shop just to see one another, because it was a safe place for them to meet. So many people I couldn’t help, not in the way that mattered. But I did what I could, I gave them a place to come and be themselves, to have someone to talk to who did not judge, who loved them and who cared for them, and to offer them the knowledge that even after they were gone, they would be remembered.”

Crowley frowned; this was not the way he’d intended the evening to go. “Sorry,” he apologized shortly. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.” 

“Nonsense. We’re fully grown beings, Crowley, and we’re completely able to talk about the past and leave it there when we’re done.” Well, mostly able. For the first time, Aziraphale reached for his wine glass, miracled a refill, and drank deeply from it. “And before you ask, truth.”

The timbre of the game had changed, and so Crowley asked a different question. “Why did you agree to the Arrangement?”

The angel looked quite startled. “You don’t know?” At the negative shake of Crowley’s head, the startled look faded a little into resignation. “Because I realized there was good in you, Crowley. More than there should have been in any demon. I had hoped, for a few centuries there, that you might realize doing good deeds felt wonderful, and you might Rise again. Become an angel again. When I knew that wasn’t going to happen, I continued the Arrangement hoping that it would give you both reason and outlet to do good things. And it worked.”

It was Crowley’s turn to scowl as Aziraphale refilled his wine. “I was hoping it was just because I was really persuasive,” he grumped. 

“After a few misdirected carrier pigeons, blighting infected crops and claiming they weren’t, and inconvenient thunderstorms disguised as thoroughly evil deeds, one gets the idea that your heart really isn’t in it.” Aziraphale’s voice was dry as he rolled his eyes. “Truth or Dare?”

Crowley eyed his wine glass. “Dare.”

“I dare you to do something good for someone who is not me,” he clarified quickly. 

“How am I supposed to do that?” complained the demon. “It’s not like people are praying to Hell.” 

Aziraphale had forgotten that one fine point. He was used to hearing people’s prayers; they were the white noise of his daily existence. But Crowley, who had lost his connection to the divine, could not hear them at all. “Right, yes. I’d forgotten about that. Well... “ He floundered for a moment, trying to think of something. 

“Forget it.” Crowley took off one of his boots and tossed it on the table. “There.” 

“I’m sorry, dearest. I just didn’t think.” Aziraphale fretted a bit more. “You shouldn’t have to use one of your forfeits.”

“It’s all in fun, angel,” Crowley reminded. “Just a game to pass the time. Now, truth or dare?”

“I think I’d better stick with truth,” the angel decided. 

“Did you really think I was going to use that holy water on myself?” 

That was not, in any way, the question that Aziraphale had expected. “Oh my. Yes, I did. I’m afraid that I did. I almost couldn’t bear it, the thought of you using it, and I’m not sorry that I said no to you. I am sorry that it resulted in us not speaking for so long, though.” 

“Even though I told you I only wanted it for insurance, in case something went wrong?” Crowley asked.

“Yes, but that was just the thing. There were a hundred different ways things could’ve gone wrong, and nearly all of them had solutions. But if you’d used that holy water before they got fixed, well. No more Crowley.”

“Then why’d you say  _ fraternising _ , like it was a bad word?”

“Because at the time, it was preferable to the alternative,” came the admission. “And the alternative was that I cared for you. Which, as an angel, I could not admit to caring about a demon. And so, even to myself, I called it fraternising, because I could rationalize that away.”

Crowley had no response to that. So instead, he drank. 

Aziraphale did as well, and then miracled another refill. “Truth or dare, please.”

“Truth,” Crowley decided quickly. 

“Why did you stay away so long?” No need to clarify when. There was only the one time, after all. 

“I was sleeping,” came the quick answer. “I was angry, I was hurt, and I slept it off. Woke up once to go to the bathroom, and went back to sleep. Woke up again when the world went to war, and when I found out you got involved, well. Had to make sure you didn’t get discorporated.”

“Even if it meant harm to yourself?”

“Well, no harm, really, just more discomfort. Like I said. Hot sand, bare feet. Not real pain, not if I kept moving.” 

Which he had, and the memory made the angel smile. “First time I found you changed your name again. Anthony J. Crowley, bit of a surprise, but nothing I couldn’t get used to.”

“The world wanted full names by that time, I had to come up with something,” Crowley said in his own defense. “And they only ever ask for a middle initial, so I made it J.” 

Of course there was more to the scene and the story, but neither being really wanted to address the baby elephant in the room, and so Aziraphale moved on, letting it lie unspoken. “I believe it’s your turn again.” 

“Truth or dare?” He rather hoped Aziraphale wanted a dare, because he was starting to get drunk enough to ask the questions that shouldn’t be asked. 

“Perhaps I’m predictable, but truth.”

“If you missed me so much, why didn’t you come look for me? Not like I was in hiding or anything.”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, then silently bent over and removed one of his brown loafers, and tossed it on the table beside Crowley’s boot. “Truth or Dare?”

Crowley’s eyebrow elevated. Not only had Aziraphale not answered, he’d slapped up a gigantic  _ no trespassing _ wall. So he respected that, and didn’t pursue the question or the forfeit. “Truth,” he answered, licking his lips. 

“How did you know to come to that particular church at that particular moment?”

Crowley snorted his laughter through his nose. “Those Nazi idiots weren’t being very quiet about what they wanted, angel. There’s exactly one book dealer in London that has a mostly-complete collection of prophecy books. A few hijacked MI-5 memos and one very confused spy later, I knew when and where. I just had to make my entrance and save some books.”

“Pray tell, how exactly did the Nazis know you?”

“Bloody Thule society,” Crowley grunted. “They actually summoned Eric, and he was blabbing about all the demonic things I’d done up here before I could shut him up.”

“Eric?”

Crowley waved a hand. “You know. Two little pointy hair-things, big long eyelashes, there’s only about a billion of him running around. Think his real name is Legion, maybe, but they started calling him Eric and it’s just sort of stuck. Anyway, they’d been trying to get in contact with me, wanting me to work for them. I had no intention of working for the Nazis so I sort of avoided them until you stepped in. Lucky for me the bomb got them all.” Crowley’s wine bottle was empty, and he miracled another from Aziraphale’s wine cellar.

“Weren’t they working for your side anyway?” the angel asked, curious.

“Damned if I know. Maybe they were, and I just didn’t get the memo.” More like he’d probably gotten it and promptly ignored it. He uncorked the new bottle and poured. “Right, your go. Truth or Dare?”

Aziraphale was nearly certain he was going to regret this, but, “Dare.”

Crowley leaned forward and carefully put his wine glass on the table. “I dare you to come over here and kiss me.”

The feeling of relief that flowed through him could not be expressed. He had been expecting something terrible, but instead, Crowley had asked for the simplest thing in the universe. 

Moving steadily, Aziraphale braced himself on the coffee table as he walked by, and then dropped onto the couch beside Crowley. His fingertips reached out, skimming over a flushed jaw line, a high cheekbone, and lips still damp from the last drink of wine. “Close your eyes,” Aziraphale murmured softly, his breath gently caressing Crowley’s skin. 

“But I don’t want to,” Crowley complained, even as his lids fluttered down over his eyes. 

Aziraphale pulled down the sunglasses to make sure that they were closed, then tossed them onto the table. They clattered loudly on the glass tabletop, but it was drowned out by the touch of Aziraphale’s lips to Crowley’s. Gentle pressure, lips closed, then parting just as he pulled away.

Crowley’s hand came up to tangle in Aziraphale’s curls, bringing him in for another, deeper kiss. His eyes were still closed, and his heart was pounding like a triphammer in his chest. A soft hiss of pleasure escaped his throat, sliding into Aziraphale’s mouth and across his tongue. 

Aziraphale braced himself on Crowley, one hand on his thigh, the other on his shoulder. After the kiss, he rested his forehead against Crowley’s, breathing heavily as his thumb rubbed along the seam of the demon’s black jeans. “Are we still playing?”

Still touching foreheads, Crowley shook his head no. “I’m done playing games, angel.”

“Thank Somebody.” Aziraphale met Crowley’s eyes when he finally opened them. “Who won?”

“I did.” Crowley nuzzled into Aziraphale’s neck. “I got the kiss.”

“Then I have one more question for you, and I would like the truth this time, please.”

“I’ve been telling the truth all along,” Crowley protested, but Aziraphale shushed him with a finger over his lips. Crowley kissed the silencing finger, but said nothing else. 

Aziraphale shivered at the light kiss. “How long have you known?”

“Be a little more specific?”

“About my feelings for you.”

Crowley looked at his watch. “About fifteen minutes ago.” 

Aziraphale looked absolutely stunned. “You are joking.”

“No, I mean, I obviously knew you cared about me, even before you said. If that’s what you mean, well, let’s see. Rome, maybe? When you were so clumsy flirting with me and trying to tempt me into oysters. But if you mean, how long have I known you feel about me the way I feel about you? Fifteen minutes, tops.” His arms wrapped around Aziraphale’s waist and he snuggled into the soft belly just waiting for him. 

“1941,” Aziraphale answered, looking down at the top of Crowley’s head. 

“Then what was all that about going too fast for you, eh?” He didn’t move, just turned his head so that his cheek rested on Aziraphale’s stomach. 

“You are  _ intense, _ Crowley. Everything about you has an intensity that’s quite frightening if you’re not used to it. I was used to it being focused on me, but after the church… it was different. I was aware of it differently, and it frightened me. Not you, never of you, but of what you awaken in me.” 

“Then I have one more dare for you.” He leaned back then, so that he could look Aziraphale in the eye. “I dare you to let yourself love me.”

“Silly serpent, I already do. I thought you said you knew.” He leaned in against Crowley and tilted him back for another kiss. “Just as I’m aware that you love me.” 

“In all fairness, I wasn’t nearly as good at hiding it as I thought I was.” Crowley stood up, wrapping Aziraphale’s legs around his waist. 

Oh,  _ that _ was disconcerting. He hadn’t expected to be picked up and moved about like he was nothing. He’d gotten so used to Crowley’s lanky shape  _ looking _ like he wasn’t hiding Celestial power behind it that when he used that strength, it was vaguely alarming. “What are you doing?”

“Changing venue,” Crowley said, the lilt of his voice suggesting that the angel had just asked a  _ very _ stupid question.

“I see.” Which he did, but also, he felt compelled to point out, “The flat upstairs doesn’t have a bedroom, as such. I turned it into a small library.” Small, as in overflowing bookcases stuffed in every inch of the space.

“Not interested in your bedroom or lack thereof,” Crowley pointed out, and he only carried Aziraphale as far as the counter. He sat the angel beside the register, and then he leaned forward so that they were nose to nose. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen you behind here, puttering about and doing  _ things _ with your jacket off and your sleeves rolled up? And of those times, do you want to know exactly how many times I’ve imagined doing  _ things _ to you?”

“All of them, I’d hope,” Aziraphale answered, spreading his knees and hooking one ankle around Crowley’s waist to hold him in place. “Although you should know, I was not quite aware of the fact that you enjoyed my arms.” 

Crowley made some sort of noise, a strangled  _ ngk _ that got lost in his throat. He lifted Aziraphale’s right arm, unbuttoned the cuff, and rolled the neatly-pressed sleeve up to the elbow. The forearm flexed involuntarily, and Crowley dropped his mouth to Aziraphale’s wrist. Pressing a kiss to the pulse point there, he gently worked his way up to the elbow, kissing and nuzzling against Aziraphale’s skin. Once he was content, he picked up the angel’s left arm, and did the same thing, so that both forearms were exposed. 

Aziraphale’s fingers slipped into Crowley’s hair and stroked softly, separating the strands between his fingertips. “Is there anything else I should know about? Shall I flash a bit of ankle? Open the collar of my shirt and scandalize you with a glimpse of my collarbones?” He meant it as a joke, but it wasn’t hard to miss the flash of eagerness in those serpentine eyes. 

Wordlessly, his fingers undid his bow tie and draped it around Crowley’s neck loosely. He popped the first button of his collar and flipped it open so that only the lower expanse of neck and a hint of collarbones showed.

Crowley made the same strangled  _ ngk _ again, and he dragged his fingertips over the newly-exposed skin. It was soft and warm, and when he withdrew, he could still catch the barest trace of Aziraphale’s cologne trailing after. His tongue darted out to quickly sample the air, and he hissed softly. 

Aziraphale crossed his legs at the knee, making sure his trouser leg pulled up enough to show the argyle socks he wore, and kicked off his other shoe. He felt a little strange, not-quite-stripping for Crowley. 

“Angel, please tell me you made the Effort.” Crowley’s forehead was resting against the angel’s bicep, but his words were clear. 

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I certainly did; I find it keeps the line of my clothing looking much more natural if there’s something there to accommodate the cut of the trousers, especially.” He kept petting Crowley’s hair, smiling to himself. It was soft, despite the choppy cut, almost like silk or sable. And it was slightly stiff from whatever styling product Crowley had slapped on that morning; probably a bit of gel or mousse, given the flexibility. Belatedly, “Oh. Yes, I did.” 

The smile spread across Crowley’s face widely enough to be felt against the angel’s skin. “Thank Somebody.” He slipped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, and nuzzled in against the exposed skin of the open collar. 

“If you’d like me to take it off--”

“Don’t you dare.” Crowley lifted his head then, and pinned Aziraphale with a hot, hard glare. “If you deny me the pleasure of unwrapping you like the gift you are, I promise I will never bring you pastries for breakfast again. Ever.”

Aziraphale put the tip of his finger against the tip of Crowley’s nose and pushed him back half a step. “If you tear, rip, or otherwise damage my clothing tonight, you will find yourself trying to build a time machine to return to 1820 to beg, bargain, or steal a replacement.”

Crowley tried to look offended, but all he could do was laugh. “There are actually people who make things the same way they did back then, you know. Re-enactment things. Mostly mad Americans, but I’m fairly certain there’d be a few over here who could fix your precious bloody coat. Besides, I’ve already miracled it clean once, I can do it again.”

“That was different, that was just a paintball,” Aziraphale teased, his eyes glinting in amusement as he smiled at his demon. 

“All right, all right, I promise I shall treat your wardrobe with the utmost respect while defiling your body, is that what you want to hear?” Crowley’s hands rested on the buttons of Aziraphale’s waistcoat, waiting for permission. 

“That’s… not quite what I had in mind, but yes, that’s good enough for me.” He loosened the watch chain and tucked it into the pocket with the watch, and then shrugged his shoulders to slide the waistcoat off when Crowley was done opening it. He caught it before it fell to the floor, and looked pleadingly at the coat rack that stood to the side of the store. 

Sighing heavily, Crowley snapped his fingers, and the waistcoat disappeared from Aziraphale’s grasp. It reappeared on the coat rack, hanging neatly from a cedar hangar. That earned him a peck on the cheek from a grateful Aziraphale, and then a sharp intake of breath. “You have freckles.”

“I’ve always had freckles. Redhead. Fair skin. Vessel freckles in the sun.” Getting the angel to focus was going to be a chore. “Look, I’m doing my best to have my wicked way with you, how about you stop paying attention to my freckles and start paying attention to everything else?”

“You don’t have to seduce me, you know.” Aziraphale met his glare levelly. “I’m a… what is it called these days, a sure thing?” 

A soft groan. “Look, I know that. Was kind of the whole point of the game, to wedge in a few dares, like daring you to kiss me, daring you to take your shirt off, getting you to dare me to do something outrageous, and then we’d kind of fall into it naturally. But of course that didn’t happen, because when do my plans ever work? So I’m playing it by ear, here, and honestly,  _ you’re not making it any easier to get in your bloody pants! _ ” He ended it on a shout, although he really hadn’t meant to. 

Aziraphale gave a mischievous grin, and made a gesture with his hand. Suddenly he was naked from the waist down, his pants and trousers and socks appearing on their own hangars over at the coat rack. He was clad only in his shirt and vest, and he swung his feet like a playful child. “If that’s all you were trying to do…”

Crowley met miracle with miracle, his clothes disappearing just as quickly into the ether from which he’d manifested them. He stood naked and unselfconscious in front of the angel, hands on his hips as his erection jutted out in front of him. “Take the rest of it off, angel.” 

Aziraphale flushed a little at that, and gave a shake of his head. As long and lean as Crowley was, it made the angel vaguely embarrassed by the soft paunch he’d let himself gain. 

A scowl crossed Crowley’s face, and he put his hands on Aziraphale’s naked thighs. “What is it?”

“I’m… soft,” came the confession, complete with a little moue of dissatisfaction. “Too soft.”

“Bollocks,” was the instant reply. “You’re ashamed of this?” He covered Aziraphale’s stomach with both hands. “Why? Because it’s you, I love it. And I don’t mean just a part of you, I mean, it’s  _ you. _ You show your enjoyment of things in so many ways, but in no way more than this. You are showing everyone that you enjoy life, you enjoy food and drink and being cozy and soft and honestly, I wouldn’t have you any other way.” His thumbs stroked the rounded curve, which was not nearly so noticeable or as big as Aziraphale seemed to think it was. 

“You don’t have one,” the angel pointed out. “There’s not a bit of excess on you. Not anywhere.”

Crowley’s thumbs kept stroking gently as he contemplated whether to tell Aziraphale the truth, or to keep his own counsel. “Would if I could, angel. Demons, we don’t... “ He sighed. “Hell burns away everything you enjoy. You’re not supposed to get pleasure out of things that aren’t evil or bad, and well. That means food too. Booze is okay, they like you to drink and get drunk and be evil. But sitting down eating a piece of cake or something?” Crowley shook his head. “They get you down to the bone.”

But that wasn’t quite the truth, and Aziraphale knew it. He knew there was something more, something that Crowley wasn’t telling, and he stared into Crowley’s eyes as he tried to think of it. Beelzebub, Dagon, Hastur. The Usher of Hell had been a roly-poly little ball of a demon, and there’d been-- “Oh,  _ Crowley. _ ”

There’d been other demons, demons of all sizes in Hell. But none of them had good things in them to hide, not like Crowley. So of course he’d burn off everything else in order to keep those good things hidden, and that’s when it hit him. “Oh,  _ Crowley, _ ” he repeated again. 

Guilt crept into Crowley’s eyes, but he didn’t look away. He guessed that Aziraphale--too smart for his own good--had connected the unspoken dots. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s more than nothing.” He cupped Crowley’s cheek, all thoughts of teasing him gone. “They take it all from you, don’t they? They take away everything you enjoy, and you give them everything to keep the one good thing hidden. That’s why… that’s why you’re always so skinny and light. You’ve given them everything to keep your secret.” 

“Worth it, in the end. And now I don’t have to worry about it. Pretty sure I’ll be getting myself one of these soon enough.” He kissed Aziraphale’s stomach through the shirt, and laid his cheek against it. “Maybe that’s why I like it. It’s a shield. It keeps you soft and lovely and safe and beautiful and you still have fun. You’re still you, and it’s part of you.” 

Aziraphale unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it and his vest off at the same time, revealing himself completely to Crowley. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“You weren’t supposed to.” Crowley straightened, pressing his forehead against Aziraphale’s. “Can I kiss you properly now?” 

“Please do.” Aziraphale closed his eyes, and tilted his head just a bit. “I hope I didn’t--”

His apology for possibly ruining the mood was cut off by the soft touch of Crowley’s mouth against his own. Crowley took advantage of the angel’s open mouth and licked teasingly across his tongue before smiling into the kiss. His hands came up, one sliding into Aziraphale’s hair and tugging playfully, urging him to  _ take the bloody hint already. _ The other slipped back down, sliding between Aziraphale’s thighs and stroking the hard cock waiting for him. 

A choked gasp made it into the kiss, Aziraphale’s hands going to grip Crowley’s hair tightly. “Change of plan,” the demon whispered, still lazily stroking Aziraphale’s cock. “Was going to have you on top, but…” He drew out the ellipsis with a sibilant hiss. “Think I’m going to fuck you this time. Show you how much I need every part of you.” His tongue licked his lips, which still tasted like Aziraphale’s kiss. “You all right with that?”

A shaky nod. “Yes, I’m all right with that. Not my first rodeo, as the saying goes.” He quivered a bit in the cool air of the bookshop, and though he was cold-blooded, Crowley gave off body heat like a furnace, and he curled into it. 

“I’ll be the last,” he promised jealously. “I don’t share.” 

“Nor do I,” Aziraphale pointed out, and got off the counter. He turned around to brace against the counter instead, looking out at the shelves of books. “In fact, as you’ve probably noticed, I’m actually quite possessive.” Reaching around behind himself, he dragged Crowley’s hands to his hips. “I don’t share the things I love, and to be honest, there is nothing in this place I love more than you, so don’t imagine otherwise.” 

Crowley’s grip tightened enough to bruise a human’s delicate skin. To be loved so much by someone so good made him go weak in the knees. But he locked his legs in place, and he leaned over Aziraphale’s naked body. Their curves and angles fit together, and he settled Aziraphale’s buttocks against his groin. A soft hiss escaped him as he started to undulate his hips back and forth, rubbing his erection against the split between his cheeks. “You’re mine, angel. I gave Hell every part of me that I hadn’t already given to you, just so they wouldn’t be able to touch what belonged to you.” His erection throbbed from the gentle abrasion, and he settled in even closer. “Gave you all the best bits.”

The blood rushing in Aziraphale’s ears muted his hearing, but he still heard the muffled snap of Crowley’s fingers. He gasped softly, feeling a cold slickness dripping from his heated body, and he realized what Crowley had done. “Please,” he said softly, squirming a bit to get closer. To urge Crowley to do what he’d promised. “I want all of it.” 

“You don’t have to beg, you’re a bloody angel with a demon wrapped around your finger. You just have to ask, and you know it’s yours.” Crowley’s hand stroked the length of his cock, spreading the slickness before pressing the head against Aziraphale’s opening. 

“Then won’t you please hurry?” Aziraphale bit his lip, and then blurted out the rest of the sentence. “Please hurry and fuck me.”

Crowley gasped at the profanity, a quick smile there and gone. “Where are your pretty words now, angel?” he asked, pressing quickly forward. The head breached Aziraphale’s opening, and the groan that issued forth was completely involuntary. His fingers dug into the angel’s skin, mauling him in the effort not to sheathe himself fully and fuck him into the floor. 

“Gone,” Aziraphale panted, feeling the penetration all over. Fire blossomed in his belly as Crowley entered him, and he scrabbled for handholds on the counter. He leaned his head back, resting it on Crowley’s shoulder as he exposed his throat and didn’t even notice. 

Crowley noticed, and his teeth fastened onto the soft skin of Aziraphale’s neck. He bit hard, hard enough to make Aziraphale cry out, then sucked the bitten skin to soothe it. His tongue laved over it, smoothing the teeth marks out, and then sucked again. He wanted a mark to be there, he wanted it to show over the collar and the bow tie, so that anyone who saw Aziraphale would see that he’d been marked, claimed, fucked. He thrust roughly, pulling the angel back to meet each of his pushes. 

Aziraphale had meant to say more, to try and spit out the filthy words that Crowley seemed to like so much, but the sharp bite and intense sucking stole the words out of his thoughts. He felt like nothing but a receptacle for Crowley’s lust, buoyed by his love but sinking into the depths of the heated fucking. 

One of Crowley’s arms wrapped around Aziraphale’s stomach, hauling him back and pinning his arms by his side. “Don’t you touch what’s mine,” Crowley snarled hungrily, and licked the shell of Aziraphale’s ear. 

“I won’t, I’m sorry!” Aziraphale cried it loudly, his back arching into Crowley’s thrusts. He could feel the fucking in every inch of his body, even his fingers vibrated with it. Down to his toes, where they curled against the cold floor, up to the tips of his hair that trembled with the force buffeting his body. 

The heat from Crowley’s body had started to warm Aziraphale’s skin, and it had first tinged pink, then flushed red. Sweat flowed between them, pooling in places where their bodies met and splashing when they pulled apart. Aziraphale’s back glided against Crowley’s chest; Crowley’s hand was slick where it splayed almost protectively across Aziraphale’s stomach. Sweat fell from his chin to drop onto Aziraphale’s shoulder and rolled down his back. 

The hard slap of body against body echoed in the empty shop. Grunts from both angel and demon hung in the still air, loud in the silence and so much better than words. Aziraphale gripped the counter hard enough to splinter the wood and didn’t notice; Crowley was leaving bruises on Aziraphale’s hip. 

He could feel the pulsing of Aziraphale’s body around his cock, knew what it meant, and quickly pulled out. Before Aziraphale knew what was happening, Crowley had spun him around and shoved him back against the counter. Dropping to his knees, the demon quickly took Aziraphale’s cock into his mouth, sucking hard. 

A short, high-pitched noise tore out of Aziraphale’s throat as Crowley deep-throated him. The orgasm he’d been trying to fight off ripped out of him, pouring with desperate jerks into Crowley’s throat. The demon swallowed rapidly, pulling back at the last moment to allow the final weak spurts to land on his lips and cheeks. 

Eyes wide as he looked at Crowley covered in come, Aziraphale got to his knees across from him. His fingers dragged through the quickly-cooling semen, then pressed against Crowley’s lips. His lips parted just enough to lick Aziraphale’s fingers clean, and the angel repeated it until Crowley’s face was mostly clean. Leaning forward, Aziraphale used his tongue to clean the rest. 

Crowley’s cock jerked as Aziraphale’s tongue brushed over his face and mouth. His body trembled as he was cleaned off, and his hand stroked his cock. Aziraphale’s hand came down to cover his own, and Crowley moved his hand entirely so that Aziraphale could stroke instead. He didn’t even need to be shown; the angel seemed to instinctively know the right rhythm to stroke to make Crowley come like a fire hose. He splattered the back wall of the counter, Aziraphale’s hand, his thigh, and the floor. 

Lifting Aziraphale’s hand, Crowley met the angel’s eyes and licked his fingers clean, sucking each one and kissing the palm when he was done. 

Shivering from the attention, Aziraphale leaned against Crowley. He was a mess and he was exhausted, but he was also happy and content. The only thing missing was a blanket, and a quick miracle took care of that; a tartan quilt appeared over his body and he wrapped himself and Crowley up in it. “Truth?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley nodded. “Was it as good as you hoped?”

Crowley nudged Aziraphale’s head so that he could kiss him again. “Truth? Better. Better than I’d ever dreamed.” Another kiss. “Truth?” 

“Truth,” the angel agreed, lacing his fingers through Crowley’s. 

“I’m expecting it to be even better than this when you’re the one fucking me.” He smiled against Aziraphale’s temple. 

“That’s a lot to live up to,” Aziraphale said after a moment of catching his breath. “But I think I can rise to that challenge.”

Crowley’s free hand crept around Aziraphale’s hip, stroking his wet, spent cock. “Dare you to show me.” 

The End


End file.
